


you're anything but ordinary

by trishapocalypse



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Adorable!Harry, Anal Sex, M/M, i really don't have a lot of tags for this, self-indulgent like you would not believe, stripper!Zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 23:42:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trishapocalypse/pseuds/trishapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry’s turning 19 and Nick tries to make up for the disaster that was his 18th by getting him something different.</p><p>(Or: the one where Nick gets Harry a male stripper and Harry doesn’t hate it as much as he should, and he also realizes he needs to get Nick a thank-you card.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're anything but ordinary

**Author's Note:**

> This is beyond self-indulgent purely because of this [picture](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m7pukfI4pn1ra2kplo1_500.png) of Zayn in aviators and. It turned into this, I don't know. Hastily beta'd, all mistakes are mine, and this never happened. I have nothing else to say. I have Zarry Problems.
> 
> tumblr: @trishanthemum

Harry was buzzed, tipsy, and well on his way to being completely and beautifully smashed when the bell to his flat rang again. His brow furrowed and he looked over at Louis. "I thought everyone was here?" he asked with a pathetically slow shake of his head.

"Not everyone," Louis told him, a twinkle in his eye as he thrust another vodka and cranberry in Harry's hand.

"Who is it? I'll get it," Harry said, walking towards the door.

"No, no, birthday boy," Nick interrupted, placing his hands on Harry's shoulders and leading him to the center of the flat. "You stay here. I'll get it."

Harry paused, shaking his head, because he might have been almost drunk but he _knew_ that look on Nick's face. And he didn't like it, and he sure as hell didn't trust him. "What did you do?"

Louis came up behind Harry, steering him towards a chair. "Just relax. Nick got you a surprise"

"No. No, no, no," Harry said, shaking his head and pushing his curls out of his eyes. "I don't like surprises, especially from Nick."

Nick gasped, holding a hand to his chest. "Young Harold, I am _hurt_ that you feel that way."

Harry frowned as there was another knock at the door. "What did you do?"

"Finish your drink," Louis suggested, running his hand over Harry's back.

"If you got me another bloody stripper and I have to suffer through another horrendous lap dance like I did last year with someone's boobs in my face, I'm going to kill you," Harry snapped, finishing his drink and shoving his cup against Louis' chest.

"I'm gonna get you another," Louis said quickly, making his way towards the kitchen.

"I'm gonna need it," Harry muttered, narrowing his green eyes at Nick.

"Harold, do you really think I would make the same mistake twice?" Nick asked.

Harry pouted.

"Trust me. You won't be suffering this year. A few of your guests might be, but not you," he promised before walking over to the door.

"I don't like the sound of that," Niall muttered, hiding behind his bottle of beer.

Harry nodded slowly. "I don't either, mate."

"Someone call about a noise disturbance?"

Harry froze, his eyes slipping shut and he shook his head. "You got me a bloody stripper," he muttered. "Typical."

"Have another drink," Louis said, pushing his cup into his hands.

Harry downed half of the drink in ten seconds before he finally looked up and made eye contact with the—oh, with the stunningly attractive gentleman and, okay. Maybe Harry wasn't so opposed to this particular man removing his clothes, not at all. His eyes were warm brown, speckled with gold flecks; his hair was black, styled to show a stark blond streak, and his skin reminded him of honey. He was tucking his aviators into the collar of his shirt and raising his eyebrows and Harry shook his head again, waving slightly and cursing himself instantly for doing so.

"This is the birthday boy, Harry," Nick said, pointing to Harry. "And he would _really_ like a lap dance."

Harry shook his head. "No. No, I actually don't want a lap dance—"

"He does," Nick interrupted, crossing the room to grab Harry's shoulders. "You're going to get a lap dance, and you're going to enjoy it. I spent a lot of time before picking Zayn out for ya, alright?" he whispered next to Harry's ear before pushing him down in one of the chairs from the dining room that Louis had brought in.

"Yeah, mate, ya might as well enjoy it since Nick worked really hard to surprise ya," Niall pointed out, a wide grin on his face.

Liam nodded next to him. "It'd be a shame to let his hard work go to waste, yeah?" he offered.

Harry glared because Niall and Liam were supposed to be on _his_ side, not ganging up against him.

Zayn had already crossed the room, shuffling through the iPod that was connected to the speakers, and was picking out a song. He deposited his aviators next to them before walking over to Harry.

Harry was surprised, all right. Not just by a _male stripper_ but also the male stripper who apparently had no desire for the trashy small talk that the female stripper from his previous birthday was all too keen to use. He wanted to curse Nick, curse Louis, curse Niall and Liam and Ed and Ben for ganging up against him, but as Zayn started swaying his hips to the beat and unbuttoning his ridiculous police outfit, he wasn't really all that upset, not anymore.

It was already ten times less awkward than the stripper Nick got him the previous year, but Harry refused to tell Nick that. Zayn turned and straddled Harry's lap, facing away from him, running his hands up and down the length of Harry's thighs and, fuck, of course he had to wear his tightest jeans, _of course._ But Zayn was moving his hips in a way that Harry was pretty sure should have been illegal before grabbing his trousers and ripping them off, tossing them aside. Harry could vaguely hear all of his mates cheering but he settled for finishing the rest of his drink before setting the cup aside.

Zayn turned on his lap and Harry gripped the side of the chair before he did something completely stupid like trying to _touch_ the man. Zayn reached for the back of the chair, rolling his hips against Harry's crotch, the fabric of his tiny black shorts barely pressing against his jeans. Harry sucked his bottom lip into his mouth because no, no, he was not going to moan and give Nick and Louis something to endlessly tease him about. But, hell, he _wanted_ to because Zayn was bloody fit and gorgeous and leaning so close to Harry that he could feel him breathing as he thrust against his lap. Zayn raised a leg up, bringing his crotch a little closer to Harry's face, and he tilted his head back, pressing closer to his body. Harry bit back a grown as his eyes met Zayn's and, hell, the man was stunning and Harry almost reached for him—almost.

"Give this to him," Nick whispered against his ear, shoving some notes in Harry's hand.

Harry nodded slowly, eyes never leaving Zayn as he slid the shirt off of his shoulders, revealing his golden chest sprinkled with tattoos. Harry wanted to touch them, run his fingers over the tanned skin, trace the black lines, but he didn't. He awkwardly tucked the notes under the waist band of Zayn's shorts, going to move his hands away when Zayn caught him, pushing them down to the top of his thighs and holding them there. Harry didn't protest, rather he curled his hands against the warm skin, holding Zayn closer to his lap as he started grinding closer to him. Harry would blame it on the alcohol, his stuffy flat, and the fact that Zayn was gorgeous, but he felt himself getting hard, pressing against the zip of his trousers, and he bit back a moan.

Zayn smirked, scooting further up Harry's lap until their crotches were right against one another, and he tiled Harry's head back, running his fingers trough his curls. "This alright?" Zayn whispered against his ear, pressing a quick kiss to the soft skin.

Harry nodded even though he knew he wasn't supposed to touch the merchandise or something, he didn't really care, not when Zayn was pressing against him in delicious slow circles, matching the time of the song he was playing, and Harry was gone.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Zayn whispered as the song ended, climbing off of Harry's lap slowly.

Harry's eyes were wide, watching Zayn's movements and tuning out the laughter from his friends. Harry knew Zayn was just getting paid, knew he was just a job to him, but hell if that hadn't been one of the hottest moments of his life. He would have to remember to send Nick a thank you card.

 

+

 

Zayn shoved is lighter back into his pocket, pulling out the wad of bills and counting them slowly as he leaned against the side of the building. He was a bloody idiot, he knew that much for sure, because he wasn’t supposed to ever actually _touch_ his clients the way he had touched Harry. He counted and recounted the bills, shoving them into his back pocket, deciding at least it had been a decent night, and he took a long drag from his cigarette. 

“Zayn, right?”

Zayn turned to see Harry stumbling out of the entrance to his flat. He nodded, taking another drag from his cigarette.

Harry nodded, slowly walking over to him, leaning against the side of the building for support. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Zayn said quietly, looking down at his feet. He wasn’t supposed to have a conversation with them, not after; he was supposed to strip and dance and _leave_ but Harry was looking at him with big green eyes and he couldn’t leave, not yet. 

“You were really—really good, brilliant, actually,” Harry told him, turning to face him and resting his head against the brick wall.

Zayn laughed softly, dropping his cigarette to the sidewalk and stamping it out. “Thanks, mate.”

“Nick got me a stripper last year, too,” he said. “It was awful, she was horrible. Well, I’m sure _she_ was fine but I’m not exactly the right person to appreciate it, yeah?”

Zayn nodded slowly. “How drunk are you?”

“It’s my birthday!” Harry announced with a loud giggle. “I’m allowed to be as drunk as I want.”

“That you are, mate,” Zayn agreed, zipping up his leather jacket to avoid the February chill in the air. 

Harry took a step closer to him, snuggling up against his side. “You’re very good,” he told him, trying to sneak an arm around his waist.

Zayn cleared his throat and took a small step away. “Thanks. I’m not used to performing for blokes who actually enjoy it.”

“You takin the piss?”

Zayn frowned. “No. Why would I?”

“Because you’re fit!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Zayn said with a shrug. “Usually I’m hired as a joke to make someone uncomfortable. Pays well, though, so can’t complain.”

Harry pouted. “Well, I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

“I know,” he told him with a small smile. “I’m gonna get going.”

“Stay,” Harry told him. “We have drinks, music, and my mates are ridiculous sometimes but there will be cake! Ice cream cake, if Louis knows what’s good for him, actually.”

“I can’t,” Zayn said with a shake of his head. “Nice meeting you, Harry.”

Harry pouted and reached out for Zayn’s hand, tugging him closer and crushing their lips together. His head was hazy and he was all too keen to blame it on the alcohol, but Zayn _was_ fit and Harry couldn’t just let him walk away. He slid his arms around Zayn’s waist so he couldn’t pull away, not just yet, and slanted his mouth over his. Zayn moaned softly against his lips, cupping his cheeks briefly before pulling away causing Harry to pout.

“I can’t,” he repeated. 

“I can pay you!” Harry said quickly.

Zayn paused. “I’m a stripper, Harry, not a prostitute,” he told him softly.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I—“

“You’re fine.”

“I just want you to stay because everyone else is making fun of me. And it’s my birthday, so they should be nice, but they’re not, and they’re _awful_ , no matter how much I love them. And you’ve been the best part of my birthday,” Harry admitted, his voice quiet.

Zayn took a step forward, pressing his lips to Harry’s cheek. “Get inside before you catch a cold. I’ll see you around.”

Harry smiled, eyes widening. “Will you?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

Harry nodded, curls bouncing, before he turned around and walked back into his flat. 

Zayn shook his head, cursing himself under his breath and pulling out another cigarette. He was breaking all sorts of rules so he wasn’t sure why he didn’t join Harry, after all—what was _one_ more broken rule? But no, he couldn’t, because Harry was drunk, tousled curls and wide green eyes and full lips and Zayn didn’t have enough self-control to follow Harry back into his flat and not drag him into his bedroom and shag him senseless. 

 

+

 

_”Maybe we should just throw another party and invite him. We can lie and say it’s Louis’ birthday or something.”_

Harry rolled his eyes, shoving his laptop into his satchel and tossing the strap over his shoulder. “What are you on, Grimmy?”

_”About four hours of sleep and three cups of coffee. Are you coming over tonight?”_

“I don’t know, I have a paper to work on,” Harry told him. “What were you even talking about before?”

_”Your beloved stripper boyfriend.”_

Harry froze, flushing quickly and glancing around him as if people could hear the entire conversation. “He’s not my boyfriend, Grimmy,” Harry told him. “And hell, if I never see him again, maybe that’s a good thing. I bloody kissed him when I was drunk.”

_”He kissed you back, though, yeah?”_

“Didn’t really give him a choice, mate,” Harry grumbled. 

_”He could’ve pushed you away, actually. You’re forgetting that I’ve kissed you myself, and there’s no way in hell that he would push you away, Harold.”_

Harry sighed, running a hand through his curls. “Look, Grimmy, I appreciate what you’re doing, but can we just…not?”

_”If you insist. Come over ‘round six and make me supper. I’ll have tea waiting.”_

“I meant it when I said I had a paper, you know.”

_”Then come over now and work on it.”_

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’ll be over in a bit. I’m gonna get some coffee first, alright?”

_”Suit yourself. See you in a bit.”_

Harry hung up, shoving his phone in his back pocket, pulling his beanie further down over his curls to avoid the chill in the air. He was a couple of blocks away from Nick’s place so calling for a cab would’ve been useless. Instead he started walking, deciding to stop by the coffee shop around the corner from Nick’s flat, slipping in and getting in line. He checked his email while in line until he heard a soft voice ask for his order and, oh—he knew that voice, he _knew_ it. He looked up, meeting Zayn’s warm honey brown eyes, and he froze instantly.

“Harry.”

“Zayn.”

“You remember my name?” Zayn asked, flushing slightly while studying Harry’s face.

Harry sucked in a deep breath before coughing to cover it up. “Yeah, of course.”

Zayn scratched the back of his neck, messing up his apron and he fixed it quickly. “Um, what can I get for you?”

“Large coffee, please, extra cream and extra sugar,” Harry told him.

Zayn nodded, taking Harry’s cash and giving him his change.

Harry dumped the change in the tip jar, not caring that it was more than his actual coffee.

“You don’t have to—“

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” Harry interrupted, glancing behind him quickly to see that no one else was in line just yet. 

Zayn nodded. “Can we not…here? They don’t know,” he said softly, nodding over his shoulder towards his coworkers.

“Of course,” Harry said automatically. 

Zayn handed him his coffee when it was done, their fingers brushing, and he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth.

“I want to see you again. Outside of your job,” Harry told him.

Zayn found himself nodding because, hell, to pass up a chance with this kid for a second time would be the worst mistake of his life. He picked up a napkin, scribbling his phone number down, before handing it over to Harry, who was positively _beaming._

“I’m going to text you the minute I finish this coffee,” Harry told him, tucking the number into his pocket next to his mobile. 

“Okay,” Zayn said nodding.

Harry smiled, taking a slow sip of his coffee. “This is rather good.”

Zayn laughed softly. “You should go. I have other customers to help.”

“I don’t like the fact that you keep trying to get me to leave when we’re finally alone,” Harry teased with a cheeky grin. 

“I won’t next time,” Zayn promised.

“Better not—third time’s the charm. I’ll text you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zayn said with a nod.

“Bye, Zayn,” Harry called over his shoulder as he walked out of the coffee shop. He couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face as he made his way to Nick’s flat, barging in like he owned the place. He toed off his boots, setting his satchel and bag next to them, before walking into the living room and sitting next to Nick on the couch. “You’re a wanker, you know that?”

Nick glanced over at him, eyes wide, mock offended. “Whatever did I do to you this time, Harold?”

“I ran into Zayn at the coffee shop a block away from your flat. Wanna tell me why you were hiding him there this whole time?” Harry asked.

Nick laughed, shaking his head. “You think I’m hiding him from you?”

“I’ve never seen him there before!”

“He’s new.”

“A stripper with a day job,” Harry said, shaking his head.

“And a heart of gold,” Nick added, rolling his eyes. 

Harry took another sip of his coffee before pulling his mobile out of his pocket along with the crumbled up napkin Zayn had given him. He balanced the coffee between his knees, typing in Zayn’s number and sending him a quick message, before he looked back at Nick. “I got his number.”

“When’s the wedding?” 

Harry rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee and kicking Nick in the leg. “Sod off.”

“Fine, fine. What’s for dinner?”

“That’s more like it.”

 

+

 

“Are you still texting that bloody stripper?”

Harry glared at Louis from the couch. “He’s not _just_ a stripper, Louis,” he told him.

Louis glanced up from the book he was balancing on his lap. “Fine. What is the _barista_ up to then?”

“Working,” Harry said with a shrug. 

“Did you finish that paper for our Asian Lit course?” Lou asked.

“Yeah,” Harry told him, sending Zayn a message and asking what time he got off work. They’d been texting nearly nonstop for almost a week and Harry wanted to see him; he was pretty sure he had made his intentions fairly obvious and, if Zayn’s responses were indicative of his feelings, then they were on the same level. 

“Can I see it?”

Harry nodded, shoving his phone into his pocket before he walked across the living room to his satchel. He pulled the paper out of his folder, handing it to Louis as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

“Zayn again?”

“You sound jealous,” Harry teased, pulling the phone out and reading Zayn’s message.

_twenty minutes. come see me xx_

**why?? u miss me? ;) xx**

_maybe a little xx_

Louis watched Harry for a minute before reading through his paper. “This is the paper you’re turning in?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, clearly distracted. 

“It’s three pages.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s supposed to be five.”

Harry paused, looking up at him. “M’sorry?”

“Your paper is too short.”

Harry shrugged. 

“Are you gonna fix it?”

“Later,” he told him, dragging on his boots and shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Have you seen my black jacket?”

“Where are you going?”

“Zayn’s off in a few.”

“Your paper is due tomorrow.”

Harry paused, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. He could stay in, finish his paper, probably get an A and be perfectly fine with that. Or. Or he could say fuck it, considering he really didn’t _care_ , and go find Zayn and probably, quite possibly, almost positively get laid. “Yeah, but… I mean, you could… Could you?”

Louis sighed. “You want me to edit your paper and add more to it so you can get laid?”

“Yes,” Harry said with a definitive nod because, yeah, that’s exactly what he wanted even if it sounded a little…bad. 

“You’re turning into quite the little slag, aren’t you?” Louis asked with a wide smile.

“Hey!” he pouted.

“I’m proud of you. Go on, then. Make sure you have a condom.”

Harry rolled his eyes, ignoring the flush that was creeping up the back of his neck. “I’m not a slag.”

“Yet. Once you get your stripper boyfriend in bed, though, you might be.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Harry protested.

“You just want his dick?”

Harry paused. “Not just that? I don’t know. He’s nice, he’s funny, and we get on great.”

“So you want to date him?

“I don’t know, Louis,” Harry said with a sigh. “But have you seen my jacket? He’s off work soon, and I told him that I would meet him there.”

“It’s in my closet.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at his mate. “You took my jacket?”

“It looked great with my suspenders,” Louis told him with a shrug.

Harry shook his head, walking into Louis’ room and finding his jacket, shrugging it on. He rummaged through Louis’ dresser drawer, shoving a couple of condoms into his pocket, before walking back out to the living area. “I took your condoms.”

“Oi! How many?”

“As many as I want. My stripper boyfriend might have stamina,” he said with a shrug. 

Louis laughed. “Get out of here, you slag.”

Harry rolled his eyes, pressing his lips quickly to Louis’ temple. “I’ll be back later.”

“You’ll be back tomorrow. If you come back tonight, I’ll be very disappointed in you. You better come back tomorrow walking funny, yeah?”

Harry flushed, flipping him off, because he really, truly had no intention of coming back to his flat that night. He wasn’t sure where Zayn stood, but he was going to find out.

 

+

 

The thing was that Harry wasn't exactly good at small talk, but he also wasn't good with awkward silences. He waited patiently as Zayn hung up his apron and clocked out, shrugging on his black leather jacket, before they walked out of the coffee shop. It was the first time they had actually spent time together when Harry wasn't drunk, Zayn wasn't almost naked, or the only time Harry stopped by for coffee (because it probably would've been awkward if he went more than once...okay, he did stop by, but Zayn wasn't working that day so it didn't really count).

Harry walked closer to him, nudging their sides together. "How was work?"

Zayn shrugged. "Lots of coffee," he told him.

Harry nodded slowly because he didn't really know what to _say._ Zayn was ridiculously good-looking (it was offensive and a little disgusting) and Harry wasn't used to being nervous. "Why do you strip?"

Zayn's eyes widened and he looked around quickly. "You can't say things like that in public, Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes. "No one is around and, if they are, I doubt they're listening. And don't be ashamed! You're quite good."

Zayn scratched the back of his neck, flushing lightly. "Thank, I think."

"It's a compliment, I promise," Harry told him, nudging his arm. "So why do you do it?"

"Why did Nick get you a stripper?"

"Nick always gets a stripper for someone's birthday," Harry said with a shrug. "He got me some girl last time and I was traumatized, really and truly. So he smartened up and found one that I would actually enjoy."

"You _enjoyed_ me?"

"I'd like to."

Zayn hesitated for a moment. "Needed the money," he told him finally. "My parents got into a bit of financial trouble after I moved out. I needed a way to make money quick to send them so they wouldn't lose the house. I've got three sisters, so... I didn't want them to have to worry," he explained slowly. He wasn't used to people asking a question and actually wanting to know the answer.

"You're a good person."

Zayn shrugged. "You're probably the only person who would say that to a stripper."

"I would say it to a prostitute as long as they have a little dignity," Harry answered. "I don't believe in judging people for their job—at least they're doing something, yeah?"

Zayn looked over at him, studying his face slowly. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"Of course I do. I wouldn't say it if I didn't."

Zayn nodded and, yeah, Harry was different and special and he had been thinking about him all week. Actually, he'd been thinking about him since the minute his lap dance was finished. And now here Harry was, sober and eyes bright and lips red, and Zayn didn't stand a chance.

"Why are you lookin’ at me like that?" Harry asked, reaching out and grabbing his hand, lacing their fingers together.

"Just remembering your birthday," he told him honestly.

Harry flushed, brushing his curls out of his face. "I think about that a lot too."

"Your birthday?"

"You taking your clothes off mainly, but also a lot about the way you move your hips," Harry said quickly, casting him a sideways glance.

Zayn stopped walking, jerking Harry back, causing him to stumble, until they were face to face. "Liked that, did you?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave.

Harry nodded quickly, eyes dropping to Zayn's mouth. "Liked it a lot," he told him. "M'sure you felt that, though."

Zayn smiled, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "I'm flattered, though a little surprised that all it took was a little rubbing."

Harry laughed loudly, reaching for Zayn's belt and tugging so that their hips were pressed together. "Was less about the rubbing an' more about the fit guy on top of me taking his clothes off. You should be illegal, mate," he said softly, pressing his fingers against Zayn's hip under the fabric of his shirt.

Zayn smiled, quickly glancing around them to see if anyone was paying attention, but no one was—thank _God._ He leaned forward, brushing their lips together softly before he pulled back, his smile widening when Harry instinctively leaned closer. "I don't kiss in public," he whispered against Harry's lips. "I like my privacy so I can take my time."

Harry groaned, running his fingers along Zayn's hipbone. "Then you better tell me your flat is around the corner or something or I will never forgive you," he replied because, hell, he wanted to kiss Zayn all bloody night and it wasn't fair that they still weren't at his flat.

"My flat's two blocks away."

"Thank _God._ "

 

+

 

Harry would’ve been happy to spend the rest of his life kissing Zayn, and that wasn’t even an exaggeration. Zayn had an air about him, a way about him where he took his time with _everything._ He had Harry pressed up against the door of his flat, hands cupping his face, lips moving lazily, slowly, and Harry dug his hands into the soft skin of Zayn’s hips. Zayn tilted Harry’s head back, moving his lips down the side of Harry’s neck; Harry moved his hips forward, trying to get a little bit of friction against his cock, strained against the front of his trousers. Zayn smiled against Harry’s neck, licking a long stripe from his collarbone to his ear, reaching for his hips and holding him steady. 

“Meant it when I said I wanted to take my time,” Zayn whispered against his ear. 

Harry moaned as Zayn’s teeth tugged at his ear, his tongue sliding against the shell, and he slid his hands around to clasp Zayn’s arse.

Zayn slid his hands to the back of Harry’s thighs, lifting one leg to drape it around his back, and he slowly ground their erections together. 

“Please,” Harry panted against Zayn’s shoulder.

“Please what?”

“Touch me,” Harry said, pressing his mouth to the side of Zayn’s neck, licking and biting at whatever skin he could reach.

Zayn pulled away, letting Harry’s leg fall from his waist, and he reached for his belt. “Bedroom, yeah? Want you sprawled out under me,” he told him, tugging Harry against him as he started walking backwards in the direction of his room. 

Harry surged forward, following him blindly as he pressed his lips to Zayn’s. Zayn’s fingers quickly undid Harry’s belt and jeans, slipping beneath to scratch his nails over Harry’s hipbones. Harry pressed his tongue against Zayn’s lips, groaning softly when Zayn pulled away to nudge open the door behind him. 

Zayn pushed Harry towards the bed, pushing the jacket off of his shoulders. Harry leaned forward, trying to kiss Zayn again, but Zayn just shook his head, grabbing the bottom of Harry’s shirt and pulling it off of him, tossing it aside. He dropped to his knees, tugging Harry’s jeans and pants down his legs before nodding backwards. Harry fell back against the bed as Zayn pulled off his shoes, jeans and trousers joining the pile on the floor, before he climbed on the bed, straddling Harry’s lap and he avoided touching his leaking cock, pressing against his stomach, hard and absolutely beautiful. Zayn pressed his lips to Harry’s sternum, feeling him flush, and Harry thrust up against him.

“You gonna strip for me again or what?”

Zayn smiled as Harry slid his hands up his back. “You do know there’s no sexy way to take off skinny jeans, yeah?”

“Not sure I like your attitude right now, mate,” Harry teased, sitting up slowly and pushing Zayn off of him, causing him to stand. 

Zayn rolled his eyes but the gesture was harmless because he knew he wouldn’t say no to Harry, not when his green eyes were shining, his cheeks flushed, and he was biting his bottom lip and…he just couldn’t say _no._ He quickly shrugged off his jacket, reaching for the hem of his white v neck and dragging it over his head, tossing it aside.

Harry smiled, leaning forward and pressing his lips against Zayn’s stomach, biting him softly. “Turn around, yeah? Let me appreciate the view.”

Zayn laughed quietly, turning around and he felt Harry scoot closer to the end of the bed, his thighs framing his hips. Harry fingers slipped under the seam of his jeans and Zayn unzipped his trousers, swaying his hips back against Harry, and he slid them over his hips. Harry leaned forward, mouthing at the back of Zayn’s neck, as Zayn slid his jeans down his thighs. Once they got to his knees, he faltered and Harry giggled against his shoulders, wrapping an arm around Zayn’s waist and pulling him back against the bed. Zayn laughed again, shoving his jeans the rest of the way off before he turned around and straddled Harry again, the younger boy laughing against his mouth. “Told ya,” he whispered against his lips.

Harry scooted further up the bed until he was closer to the headboard, resting his weight on his elbows. “Ya gonna leave those on?” he asked, nodding towards Zayn’s pants where his cock was peaking out of the top, and he desperately wanted him naked. He gripped the fabric between his fingers and slid it over the curve of Zayn’s arse, down his thighs, smiling when Zayn kicked them aside. 

“Was thinkin’ about it,” Zayn told him, fitting their mouths together again. He traced the inside of Harry’s mouth, over his teeth and the top of his mouth, eliciting a moan from the boy beneath him. He raked his nails down Harry’s chest, over his nipples, causing Harry’s back to arch and a whimper to escape his lips. Zayn smiled, pressing his lips to the underside of Harry’s jaw as he wrapped his hands around his cock. 

“Yeah, fuck, Zayn,” Harry gasped, sliding his hands up Zayn’s back and into his hair. He tugged at the strands and Zayn kissed him again, languidly, and he jerked him off at the same pace—torturously slow. Zayn smiled against him, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, biting and nipping, twisting his wrist and swiping his tongue over the leaking head of his cock. Harry broke the kiss, head falling back against the pillow, and he groaned, thrusting his hips upward. “Fuck, Zayn, please, please…”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me, Christ, Zayn, need—need you,” he moaned.

Zayn pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, pulling away to fumble through his nightstand drawer before pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom. He tossed the foil wrapper on the bed, popping open the lube and slicking up his fingers. He settled between Harry’s legs, rubbing his thumb around his opening, and Harry pushed back against him. “Y’ready?”

Harry nodded quickly, pushing his curls out of his face. He sucked in a deep breath as Zayn slid two fingers inside of him, stretching him slowly. Harry arched his back; Zayn was close, so close, sliding his fingers teasingly slow over the bundle of nerves, enough to make Harry moan but not enough for him to find any sort of relief. Zayn pressed his lips to the inside of Harry’s thigh, sliding his tongue over Harry’s length before sucking the head into his mouth as he added a third finger. Harry’s fingers tightened in Zayn’s hair, torn between pushing deeper into his mouth and pushing harder against his hand. He could feel his stomach tightening and he knew he was close, overwhelmed with the sensation of _Zayn._ “M’close, Zayn, Zayn, gonna—“

“Not yet,” Zayn said, pulling away from him and sliding his fingers out of Harry. He wiped his hands off on the sheet, ripping open the condom and sliding it on. He slicked himself up, biting his lip and resisting the urge to touch himself even more, and he leaned down to press his lips to the corner of Harry’s mouth. 

Harry wrapped his legs around Zayn’s waist. “C’mon, Zayn, don’t tease—ah, _fuck_ ,” he moaned, cut off as Zayn slid into him in one quick thrust. His nails dug into Zayn’s shoulder blades as Zayn paused, hesitant, and Harry nodded, pushing his hips back against him in a silent encouragement for him to move.

Zayn rocked slowly against him, moving his hips in slow circles, just enough pressure against his spot and Harry was a whimpering mess already. He pulled Zayn closer, pressing their lips together as Zayn thrust harder into him, and Harry moaned. Zayn ran his hands up the back of Harry’s thighs, holding them further apart and Harry pushed back against him. Zayn wanted to take his time, have Harry fall apart underneath him until he was a sobbing, withering, uncontrollable _mess_ but he was already so close, Harry tight around him, moans and gasps leaving his pretty lips, and there was no way he was going to last. 

Harry panted against his lips, little sighs escaping him, and he reached for his cock, desperate for friction, but Zayn pushed his hand away. “Zayn, I, please—“

Zayn wrapped his fingers around Harry’s leaking cock, jerking him off quickly in time with his thrusts. He ran his tongue over the outline of Harry’s tattoos across his collarbone, breathing against his neck, and Harry threaded his fingers through Zayn’s hair again, pulling their mouths together. 

“M’gonna come,” Harry whispered against Zayn, sucking his lower lip into his mouth, trying to stave off his orgasm, but it wasn’t helping.

Zayn thrust faster, hitting his spot each time, and Harry came less than three jerks later when Zayn thumbed over his tip. Harry moaned loudly, Zayn’s name falling from his lips, as Zayn fucked him deeper, watching his abs twitch as he found his own release before collapsing on top of Harry.

Harry whimpered as Zayn pulled out of him, discarding the condom, before wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist. Harry nuzzled against the side of Zayn’s neck, breathing him in deeply. “You’re brilliant,” he whispered.

Zayn laughed loudly, rolling onto his back and pulling Harry with him. “You’re ridiculous. But I quite like it.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked, peering up at him from under his eyelashes. Zayn nodded. “Good. Because I think I’ll quite like having a stripper for a boyfriend.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “I won’t be stripping forever, you know.”

“That’s okay,” Harry told him. “You can strip for me whenever you’d like.”


End file.
